


5 Simple Ways to Please Your Man

by ajremix



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme.  Simmons looks for tips on seducing Grif in one of Donut's magazines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Simple Ways to Please Your Man

He was dead. If he got caught, he was so dead. Because he'd kill himself. But since he hadn't been caught yet, Simmons continued to creep along the walls of Donut's room until he came to the messy pile of magazines on the nightstand. He could feel his masculinity and self-respect being shredded away as he flipped through brightly colored gloss covers of computer-altered models and billowing hair. Article titles were screaming at him between white smiles, but none of them were what he wanted. What the hell? Weren't those kinds of magazines all about how to look pretty and doing stuff for guys? Why the hell couldn't he find what he was _looking for_ -

"Oh, Simmons! I didn't know you were coming over. I would've freshened up the room!"

Simmons froze, one hand holding a magazine claiming to knowing the secret to being happy and successful while the other hand froze on another as he was pushing it aside by the cover model's boobs. "Uh..."

"Are you looking for something? Some light reading material? Or did you want ideas for painting your nails? Oh! I know! We could give each other home spa makeovers!"

His hands sprung open, letting half a dozen magazines fall to the floor. "No, I wasn't. I'm not here. I need to go."

Except when he tried to escape, Donut just hooked a hand around his arm. "Oh, you. It's okay, I can help you out! What were you looking for?"

"Nothing! I, uh, I hear Sarge calling me."

"Sarge is yelling at the Blues again."

"I should make sure Grif isn't slacking off while he's gone."

"He went with Sarge to check up on Sister."

"...is Lopez doing anything?"

"I don't think so."

"Then Lopez-"

Donut sighed, rolling his eyes. "You were here for a reason. You might as well just tell me."

"Um, no. That's okay."

With narrowed eyes and pressed lips, Donut studied Simmons gravely. "I'll just have to guess then. Let's see... this is the first time you've ever been in my room or expressed interest in it, but I've seen you lurking around for the last week or so."

Simmons flushed and cursed his Dutch-Irish paleness. "No, I haven't!"

"And you've just generally been acting weird for the last week. .........Are you and Grif having sex problems?"

He practically erupted into flames. "What? _No_!"

"Then you guys haven't had sex yet?"

Simmons then upgrade from facial fire to choking on his own tongue. "Ohmygod!"

"Oh, don't act like it's ever been a secret." Donut cupped an elbow in one hand and his chin in the other. "So you want to upgrade your relationship but you don't know how?" He started sifting through the magazines.

"I'm not talking about this. Nobody is talking about this."

"Fine. Don't talk. Read."

A magazine was then promptly shoved into Simmons's hands, the article it was opened to reading, '5 Simple Ways to Please Your Man'. The photo next to the title was a mostly naked woman hovering over a mostly naked man and both smiling like they were in a professionally lit photo shoot instead of a bedroom. That was a pretty big indicator that this probably wasn't the kind of help he was looking for, but Simmons was the kind of desperate that was willing to give just about anything a try.

Until he reached suggestion number two. "Uh, Donut? Isn't this advice a little..." how could he put it tactfully? "Girly?"

That probably wasn't the way.

" _Girly_?" Donut huffed, hands on hips canted to one side. "I'll have you know that _Cosmo_ is the leading magazine on men pleasing! If anyone can help awkward and sexually inexperienced people spice up their love life, it's them."

Simmons chose not to raise to the bait in lieu of focusing on more important things. "Have you even read this article, Donut? There is no possible way this stuff works."

"Of course it works! They couldn't publish it if it didn't!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

With a roll of his eyes, Donut said, "You were the one that came in here looking for advice. Or do you seriously plan to ignore it and go it on your own?"

There was a long pause as Simmons realized he was caught. "...dammit."

~*~*~*~

After hours of being trapped in a small room with pleated valance curtains and no windows to hang them on, Simmons was ready to do or die. Mostly die because being grilled and prepped and gushed over by Donut was something Simmons would've preferred to have lived without. But he had endured and survived and had an encyclopedic knowledge of the article because, as Donut said, "Think of it like a tutorial" and then there was no way he could get around committing the whole thing to memory. Which meant, now that he had this head stuffed with terrible advice and staged photos, if Simmons didn't go through with it that knowledge would be wasted and he refused to believe anything learned could be a waste. Occasionally traumatic, yes, but not a waste.

One useful piece of knowledge was knowing how to find Grif whose day generally consisted of slobbing around, general slobbing and, on occasion, freestyle slobbing in which he claimed he was threatening Tucker into not sleep with his sister but in reality just spent slobbing around Blue Base. Simmons was infinitely grateful that Grif was merely slobbing around as there was no possible way he could go through with the plan with the Blues- and Sister -watching. But in the Red Team's common room which really no one but Grif spent any time in? Simmons could work with that. Even if he did feel incredibly self-conscious wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt in the middle of the day instead of armor.

Grif, as predicted, was lounging on the raggedy sofa, idly flipping through channels even though all but three were just static. The three that weren't never had anything worth watching, but Grif never watched tv to be entertained, just occupied.

Simmons stood in the doorway and tried to keep his voice from cracking as he said, "Hey."

"Hey what?"

"Uh," the article didn't go into specifics about how to actually initiate and Simmons tended to get lost without details to guide the way. So he took a deep breath and recited the steps again in his head.

_1\. Be Seductive_

"You should pay attention to me."

Grif snorted. "Why? It's not like you ever have anything interesting to say."

"I might." He scrambled for something seductive to say. "It's not like the television can give you what you want, anyway."

"Seeing as I don't actually want anything, I'd say it's giving me just what I need."

He strode into the room and looked down at Grif. Then, after a moment's hesitation, sat down on his legs.

"Ow! Simmons, what are you doing?"

"I can give it to you better."

"What?" Grif wriggled, trying to shift the cyborg's weight distribution to a more comfortable area. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, I think you know." Simmons then attempted to smile seductively.

"You are seriously creeping me out right now."

He sighed because it was step one and already the tutorial was failing on him. "Would you just work with me here?"

"Dude, you lost me at 'work'. But if you're trying to say you want to make out, just kiss me."

Simmons sighed again, partly in frustration and partly out of relief. "God, just take all the romance out of it."

"You suck at it and I don't give a shit." Grif shoved at Simmons until he could sit up, then tugged the man back toward him again to claim his mouth with his own.

He tasted like Cheetos and stale beer and part of Simmons figured he should be depressed that those were the tastes he associated with Grif. Those and every other unhealthy thing he could name. But, at the same time, Grif sure as hell knew how to kiss so complaints about the taste usually fell by the wayside when he delved his tongue deep into Simmons's mouth, licking at his teeth, the roof of his mouth, sucking Simmons's tongue like it was the best thing in the world. Or at least the best thing in this crappy little box canyon that held less than nothing.

If he actually was forced to admit it, Simmons would've been happy to kiss Grif all day. But he had a plan he had to follow and he had to at least attempt to salvage it. So he pulled back from Grif's tongue and said, "Let's go to my room."

Grif, the idiot that he was, just blinked at him and asked, "Why?"

"For privacy?"

"Making out on the couch never bothered you before."

"Maybe I'm not talking about making out, dumbass!"

"What- like sex?" Simmons glowered at the question which made Grif's expression brighten with understand. " _Oh_. _That's_ why you're being so weird today! Yeah, fine- get off me and we'll go."

They made their way down the hall, Grif with his hands in his pockets, Simmons following behind and wondering if they should be groping and fumbling and tripping over each other as they made their way to the nearest clean bed like they did in the movies. Except it wasn't mentioned in the article so Simmons kept his hands to himself and just followed quietly, trying to formulate how the rest of the steps should go. Before he fully realized he had closed the door to his room and locked it behind them, Grif was already stripping and Simmons promptly spluttered out, " _What are you doing_?"

Grif paused with his pants halfway down his thighs. He wasn't wearing underwear. This was both shocking and not to Simmons- he probably thought having to pull them down and up every time he went to the bathroom as too much work. "I'm getting naked. That's usually what happens when you have sex in a bedroom, you know. If you wanted to frot in the hall, that'd be a different story."

Simmons had to hide his face in his hands in an attempt to rally his resolve. "I know that!"

"So you gonna drop those pants, or do you expect me to do that for you?"

He could do this. He could do this. It was a necessary step and it lead perfectly to part two anyway, so Simmons took a deep breath (which did not help to calm him, but A for effort) and pulled off his shirt. When Grif did nothing but sit on the bed with his back to the wall and legs splayed out (and Simmons was embarrassed at how good he thought that looked), he moved on to his pants. He would've attempted a sexy wriggle if he wasn't afraid of falling on his face and instead just pushed them down, kicked off his shoes because he somehow managed to forget about them, and stepped free of his clothes, hands on his hips and waiting for Grif's reaction.

_2\. Wear Something Sexy_

"Dude." Simmons was pretty sure that whatever reaction the magazine said he'd get, a flat, incredulous tone was not supposed to be one of them. "You are _not_ wearing frilly booty shorts."

He could feel his entire face light up, flush reaching all the way down to his shoulders and chest in splotches, and just stuttered, like he could mumble out an excuse.

"Wait, are you wearing _Donut's_ frilly booty shorts? Are you kidding me?"

The need to die of embarrassment won out over everything else and Simmons crossed his arms, stuck between wanting to cover his pelvis or his chest and had to settle for somewhere around the waist instead. "I-It's supposed to be sexy underwear. It's sexy."

"Not on _your_ bony ass. You look like a prepubescent girl in them."

Another flush rushed through Simmons, this one powered by anger. "Of course I look fucking ridiculous! No man looks good wearing frilly underwear!"

Grif just scoffed. "As much as I'd hate to say it, Donut knows how to work lace. And did you forget that I had a trans girlfriend? I've never seen anyone look hotter in corset and garters since. It's all about attitude, and trust me- you ain't got it."

"Look, I'm just doing what I was told!"

"Who told you?"

Simmons clamped his mouth shut so fast he nearly bit his tongue. "Forget it. God, just- shut up." He practically ripped the lace underwear off and he'd be amazed that all it took to get over being self-conscious of his own nudity around someone else was to be mortified by failing to wear something sexy if he wasn't so mortified by having failed to wear something sexy.

It almost all came crashing down again when he saw Grif looking at him with a little grin twisting his lips if it weren't for _how_ Grif was looking at him with his eyes dark and lips wet like he'd just been licking them and it wasn't Grif's hands twitching that caught Simmons's attention as it was the twitching of his dick, growing darker just from looking at Simmons from halfway across the room. Simmons flushed again but this had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with wanting to climb on the bed and let Grif wrap his legs around his waist and trace the long line of pale spine with dark fingers. Simmons did just that and Grif did just that when he was close enough, pulling the man in for a kiss that managed to be hotter than any of the others before. If it was because it was all just skin with not even air in between or because some previously hidden hunger was awaken, Simmons didn't give it much thought because Grif was trying to melt his bones with the heat of his mouth and fingers imprinting themselves on his skin.

Simmons felt like he was going to die in all the best possible ways. Which, of course, meant he had to remember he still had three more steps to act out.

_3\. Tease Him_

It took conscious effort for him to stop squeezing and tugging the soft flesh at Grif's sides and he had to ignore the way his hands trembled as he brushed fingertips here, there, through the curls on Grif's chest, skirting across his shoulders and arms. It was even more difficult pulling away from Grif's lips to press barely-there kisses over his chin and down his neck, more teeth than lips and more air than either. Grif struggled against him, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat that Simmons could feel echoing in his chest. The noise got progressively louder every time Simmons dodged another attempt at a liplock.

At least until Grif rolled them over and even if Simmons's cybernetic enhancements could've pushed his bulk off with little effort, he was taken off guard by lips suddenly fused to his.

"What," Grif eventually pulled back enough to growl, "do you think you're doing?" He dove back at Simmons's skin with teeth and tongue that were definitely going to leave marks for the whole damn universe to see.

"I'm supposed to tease you," Simmons spluttered out between kisses that were big, wet and sloppy because that was all Grif had the patience for.

"You've been teasing me for five fucking years. I think it's time we moved on." And with that, Grif drove his hips down against Simmons and the ensuing burst of pleasure and sensation had Simmons digging bruises into Grif's skin.

"Oh fuck." He gasped when Grif did it again, groaning against his freckled collarbone, in the seam between skin and metal. "Oh fuck oooooooooh _fuck_."

"Careful. I might start thinking it's because I'm a sex god and not because you're a virgin."

Grif's hand slipped between them, thumb pressing hard on the lines of Simmons's body as he followed each one down until he could wrap his hand around both their dicks.

Simmons froze with a squeak.

The very manly and not at all mousey noise was enough to get Grif's attention. "What? What is it?" He narrowed his eyes at the other man's terrified expression. Understanding dawned. "Holy shit- you really are a virgin, aren't you?"

That was not how Simmons wanted step four to go.

_4\. Communication_

"I am not!"

That just got Simmons a 'you're full of shit' look and another pointed stroke of his cock which resulted in another not-squeak.

"You know, I figured you never touched another dude's junk before, but I would've thought you had someone touch _yours_." Grif sighed, his hand still wrapped around Simmons but the only movement was his thumb tracing circles around the underside of the head, drawing out little shivers with each pass. "This is probably because of all the bullshit I've had to deal with because of my sister, but being a virgin isn't a bad thing." When Simmons made no move to reply other than looking like a trapped animal, Grif sighed and sat up. "Look, if you can't do this, just say so. I'm not going to spend all night trying to make you want this."

"No! I mean- I do! I just... you just... it's just..."

Grif scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. Just. I get it." He moved off just enough to fall on the bed on his side, back facing Simmons.

"Wait, wait!" Hands scrabbled at Grif's shoulders. "Are you going to sleep? You can't sleep yet! We haven't... we haven't yet!"

He turned just enough to glare. "Done what yet?"

"You know... _it_."

"There's a lot of 'it's."

Simmons flushed, drawing his hand from warm skin. "Sex."

"If you can't even say the word, I don't know how you expect to survive actually fucking anyone."

"Saying and doing something are completely unrelated!"

"Whatever, dude. I'm not playing semantics with you." Instead, he grabbed Simmons's hand and tugged at him until they were lying back to chest. "Now, what I was _trying_ to do before you got all clingy on me, was say it might make you more comfortable if I wasn't looking at you. Because you always go stupid when you think someone's watching you do something embarrassing." He guided the hand- the human one, all warm flesh and frayed nerves -to his dick, wrapping Simmons's fingers around it. "So, you know. Just do what you normally do."

"Um," Simmons could feel his brain frizzing on the edges and the only thing it managed to communicate to his hand was to flex a little. "Like this?"

Grif made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, cock getting harder against Simmons's palm, growing thick with heat. "I know you do more than just squeeze it. Move your hand." When Simmons complied, pulling his hand down until he hit the base with nestled curls of hair tickling against his wrist, Grif's breathe stuttered in his lungs. "Yeah," his voice was a little hoarse and Simmons had to wonder how long he'd been waiting for someone else's touch. "Like that."

Nervously, Simmons licked his lips, tasting the skin between tanned shoulder blades as he did. "You're, uh, you're kind of-"

"If you say 'small', I swear to Christ, Simmons, I will punch you in the dick."

Simmons had to clamp down on the observation that, given his name, anywhere Grif punched him would, technically, be 'in the Dick', but having deduced that Grif was not in the mood for jokes, wisely kept that to himself. "I was going to say thicker."

Grif grunted, pushing himself back until their legs were an entangled mess and Simmons was pressed flush between the cheeks of his ass. "Whatever, asshole. Just start stroking."

"But- I don't-"

"Yeah right, like you've never masturbated before. Just jack me off like you do yourself."

Simmons buried his face against the arch of Grif's neck. "God- you're making this like high school all over again!"

"What, you were the handjob dealer at your school?"

"What?" Simmons pulled back, which made Grif grunt and push into him until he nearly rolled on top of the other man. So Simmons pressed his chest to Grif's back again before saying, "What does that even mean? I meant I feel like you're giving me a pop quiz."

"A porn quiz, maybe."

"It's still a quiz!"

"The only thing you're going to get graded on is if I'm going to let you touch my dick again or if I think it's less hassle to do it myself. And right now? Doesn't seem worth it. I would've fucked your mouth if I didn't think you'd try to talk through _that_ , either."

Simmons's lips twisted in frustration and he made an angry noise through his nose against Grif's skin. Then he gave Grif's dick a quick, sharp tug that left the man gasping and gripping Simmons's thigh tight enough to leave whiter bands on already white skin. Emboldened by the response, Simmons loosened his grip just enough to reposition it around the head already starting to leak precum, pulling down again with his hand a tight ring that made Grif's hips snap forward. They were far enough apart that Simmons's own hips lost contact with him for a moment, but close enough that when they crashed back together he had to bite back a pained noise. He distracted Grif by cupping his balls until he repositioned them the way he wanted, with Grif's legs splayed and Simmons pressed so tight against him the only movement Grif could make would be to rock back against his dick.

Simmons might've distracted himself with Grif's balls while he was at it, rolling them against his palm, squeezing and tugging and feeling all the ways it made Grif shiver and twitch against his body. Grif squeezed at his thigh again. "Didn't I tell you to stop teasing me? Get on with it." Except Grif's voice was anything but impatient and everything like he'd trade all the world in just to have Simmons's hand between his legs for the rest of his life. But if there was one thing Simmons was good at it was taking orders. He moved his hand over Grif's dick, sometimes just tracing the contours with his fingertips, sometimes with his palm, categorizing all the ways it was different from his. He listened to Grif's gasps and whimpers, could probably write a dissertation about the way he trembled, the way his shoulders quivered against Simmons's chest or how good it felt to feel Grif's ass cheeks reflexively clench around his dick. But mostly Simmons just did what he was told.

"Faster."

"Tighter."

"Up. No, over. _There_. Right there."

"Oh fuck, Simmons. More. I need- _yes_. Just like that. Fuck, so good."

Simmons was having a hard time concentrating on things that weren't his hand on Grif's dick or the sound of his voice rough and breathless or the way Grif kept rocking his hips back into Simmons's own erection. But the constant litany of profanity and direction reminded him of the final step and his rhythm stuttered as he tried to gather his thoughts for it.

_5\. Talk Dirty_

"So you like that, huh?" He tried to inject some forcefulness in his voice but only succeeded in making it quaver uncertainly. "Yeah you... you take that."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you want you want. Uh, dirty whore."

Grif's shoulders went back so fast they nearly cracked against Simmons's nose. "No. Shut up. You're ruining it."

"But-"

"I will get up. Grab a sock off the floor. And stuff it in your mouth if you say one more word." Grif was so agitated Simmons could feel him softening against his palm. "Goddammit," Grif's palm slid over pale knuckles and freckled wrist, forcing Simmons to match his pace. "I can't believe I have to hold your hand through this. _Literally_ hold your hand."

Simmons would have said something, but Grif was starting to shiver again, ass cheeks tensing, quivering, flexing against Simmons's cock. He opened his mouth to say something but Grif made his fingers do this little twisting thing around the head of his dick that made a breathless whimper travel all the way down Grif's spine until his ass cheeks clenched so _tight_ that Simmons had to bite down on the junction of his neck. With Grif in the driver's seat, there was no wasted second; quick, tight strokes only broken up by a little flare of the hands that left both of them groaning. Simmons had no choice but to follow his pace until he memorized it in the snap of muscle, all the way down to the heat in his blood until neither were leading, their fingers entangled in each other as much as they were on Grif's cock, breathing matching the pace of their hips and Simmons's teeth marked little grooves in Grif's skin while Grif was down to half-formed thoughts and less-formed words.

When Grif came it was more on Simmons's hand than anywhere else and a long, low sound that took his very bones with it. Simmons scooted aside, letting Grif roll onto his back, chest heaving and eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Still achingly hard and with semen cooling and sticky on his hand, Simmons had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Eventually he decided to clean off his hand while Grif's recovered from what seemed like a near-heartattack. By the time Simmons got back, Grif had rolled over again, cheek smooshed against a pillow and breathing deepening in horrifically familiar way.

"Oh no you don't, you fucker!" Simmons all but jumped on to the bed. "You can't go to sleep yet! You have to return the favor!"

"Yeah, yeah." Grif idly batted away the hand poking him. "After a nap." He promptly started snoring. The kind of deep, even snore that meant the only way Grif would wake up was when he was damn well ready to.

"I hate you. I hate you so fucking much."

~*~*~*~

After an afternoon spent trying to convince Sarge to let him put flower bushes around the base, Donut had to cede that round because there were brownies in the oven he needed to take out. As he headed into the base, he saw Simmons coming out of the living quarters, carrying that issue of _Cosmopolitan_. Donut grinned brightly at him. "Guess that article worked, huh? Seeing what other kind of advice it has?"

"Fuck no. Everything it said was wrong. I'm going to burn it."

The only thing in Red Base that got burned were the brownies because Donut was too busy trying to save his magazine. But Grif ate them anyway. And then he finally returned Simmons's favor by giving him the best blowjob of his life.


End file.
